


So Long, Farewell, See You Around

by Tallulah_Rasa



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Friendship, Gen, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 20:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2039721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallulah_Rasa/pseuds/Tallulah_Rasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven realities, seven variations on a theme: how Jack said goodbye to the SGC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Long, Farewell, See You Around

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as five ways Jack didn't say goodbye to the SGC. That it ended up as seven ways in which he (mostly) did owes much to the mysteries of the creative process, as well as my imperfect grasp of both editing and addition.
> 
> Back in 2006, when I wrote this, several people were kind enough to slog through early drafts of this. Thanks be to Tripoli for an interesting perspective, and for her unwitting instigation of section four; and to Erin for the cookies, for helpful comments and suggestions, and for only saying twice that she preferred the original version of the first part.
> 
> Please note: The second part involves major character death, in the sense that it's about the afterlife. I think of it as a happy story, but YMMV.

**1\. In Which Jack Needs to Clear the Air**  
 _The only certainties are uncertainty and indigestion._

_This probably makes the most sense diverging from our reality after "Menace."_

"So," Daniel said, and Jack wasn't sure what that meant. Daniel knew a great many more than twenty-three ways to say...well, everything. After years of working and fighting and bleeding together, Jack had come to understand some of what Daniel said, but the things he understood best were still the obvious things: _I won't be offended if you don't pick me_ and _You son of a bitch!_ And, of course, Daniel dying, which wasn't exactly a mixed message.

Now, though, he was the one who was leaving, and So could mean a lot of things.

"So," Jack said, not meeting Daniel's eyes.

The wars were over. The Goa'uld had been taken out by the Replicators; the Replicators finally squashed by the Asgard. After so many years of desperate, adrenaline-fueled purpose, the absence of something to fight shook up the SGC, leaving people unmoored and a bit unhinged. Teal'c had gone to his people, Sam to the Alpha site. Jack was going to Washington. His car was packed, his house sold. Daniel was staying behind. Jack had never gotten around to asking why.

The stood in Jack's driveway, but Jack was already somewhere else. He guessed that Daniel would call this an ending, and maybe it was. None of them had ever talked about _after_. Jack hadn't even thought about it, much. You couldn't think about things too much, not if you wanted to survive in the military. You did what you had to do, and then...

Jack hefted the duffel bag in his hand. It felt solid, weighted, like it had pieces of a lifetime in it.

"May the wind be at your back," Daniel said. "Unless, you know..."

"Beans," Jack said, and they both smiled.

Daniel nodded, and Jack turned to his car.

"Jack," Daniel said, and Jack turned back, because Daniel had started the whole thing, and had a right to the last word. Not a ritual, though, or some conversation-in-the-making, because--

"Thank you," Daniel said.

"You, too," Jack said, and then he left.

* * *

Time, on Earth as elsewhere in the galaxy, passed. The Pentagon was okay. In some ways it was a relief to have a new post, a new life with so few reminders of the mistakes and failures of the old one. Moving on was the military way; he knew Carter and Teal'c understood that. Daniel, though -- Daniel had never been military, never gotten the hows and whys of military life. Jack couldn't help thinking about that sometimes, even though Daniel had certainly had his share of new starts.

A few people asked about SG-1. Jack tried to explain that yeah, the team was like family, but no, they didn't really keep in touch. "Like friends from college," somebody suggested, and Jack wondered what Daniel would say about that. Was his idea of "college reunion" that time he'd gone to his professor's funeral, that time when Osiris...?

Jack winced. _Bad example_ , he wanted to tell Daniel, who wasn't even there. He felt a pang then -- probably the breakfast burrito he'd grabbed on the way into work.

He should start eating better, he thought.

* * *

People stopped asking about SG-1. Well, the Pentagon was full of soldiers, soldiers like Carter and Teal'c and Jack himself, and they understood that you couldn't talk about some things. Anything, really, because it all led to _Remember the time the ship exploded?_ or _Remember when we didn't get there in time?_ You had to move on -- every soldier knew that.

Except...Daniel wasn't a soldier. And he still, somehow, felt like Jack's responsibility. Like part of his team, even though Jack didn't have a team any more. That had something to do with their history, Jack thought, but he wasn't sure what.

The thought popped up in his internal in-box from time to time. He couldn't sign off on it, couldn't pass it off to some other desk jockey. It was an annoyance, a minor twinge in his gut. Though...that probably had something to do with the chili-dogs he'd been buying from that cart outside the Air and Space Museum.

He kept buying them, anyway.

* * *

He didn't last long at the Pentagon. Minnesota beckoned; he was ready to retire. He wanted time to relax. Time to fish. Time to _be_.

Being, it turned out, was harder than it looked.

He was used to being busy. And to having people around to explain the things he couldn't -- or didn't want to -- understand. Bad habits both, he decided, like his post-midnight snacks, or the daily bowl of ice cream that always had him running to the john a few hours later. But wasn't that what new starts were for? You got rid of old habits, old routines, old ways of thinking. You let go of the past. You moved on.

Wandering around the house late one night, it occurred to him that maybe it wasn't a good idea to break so many old habits at once. Habits, after all, became habits for a reason. Daniel would probably say they had some historical significance. Teal'c would know about their military importance. Carter -- hell, she could probably come up with some chemical explanation for them, or some reason why they were an integral part of the physical world. Important to its very survival, maybe.

He fixed himself a bowl of mocha-fudge chip. Then he fired up his laptop, made some arrangements, and sent a few messages over distances he tried not to think about.

* * *

Carter was the first to respond: _It's about time, she said._

Teal'c sent word through the Gate. A recording of Teal'c's uninflected, unvarnished _Indeed_ was sent to Jack, and through the background noise he heard the underlying approval.

Daniel, uncharacteristically terse, emailed, _Okay._

Jack thought about emailing him back -- something about reservations, and about Daniel probably having some above and beyond the ones he could get on Southwest Air -- but he wasn't sure how that would come across. They'd never been big on words, but Jack wasn't sure if Daniel still understood the things Jack didn't say, still understood the language of a box of Kleenex.

They were set to meet at a rental cottage; neutral ground. Jack, of course, got there first. Carter roared in with Teal'c in tow, and then, late enough to make everyone antsy, Daniel finally showed up. He stood at the door, and said, "So," and Jack pulled him inside. Sam hugged Daniel, and Teal'c hugged Daniel, and Jack stood and watched, wondering what everyone else was thinking, and whether reunions were ever a good idea.

"So," he finally said.

"How've you been, you dirt bag?" Sam interrupted. She was facing Daniel -- well, they all were -- in the middle of the living room. "You never call, you never write..."

"Hey! I send birthday cards," Daniel said. "And best wishes at the Chulakian New Year."

"You're a dirt bag," Sam said, and even Teal'c smiled.

"Digging in the dirt doesn't make me a dirtbag," Daniel said. "And anyway, that's Dr. Dirtbag to you."

"Now you've done it, Carter," Jack said, auto-pilot engaged. "He's going to start _explaining_. At length. And probably not even in English."

"Yo no soy un dirtbag," Daniel said on cue. "Je suis--"

Daniel stopped short. Jack had seen the look on his face before: the look of a translation falling into place, the thud of returning memory. What it meant right then, right there, he had no idea.

"You look like you've stumbled on some meaning-of-life stuff there, Daniel," Jack said, and he felt something at the pit of his stomach. Probably his breakfast -- he'd cut it close that morning, and had to grab a couple of stale doughnuts on the fly. He really had to start eating better.

He had to turn his head away to blink something out of his eye, but Carter, ever his second, took up the slack. "Well, duh," he heard her say in a fairly credible Homer, and then, in her normal voice. "Hey, Dr. Dirtbag, you hungry? We've got food coming."

Jack looked back then, but Daniel's face said only, _I'm starving._ "Oh," he said. "Did you order--?"

"You have to ask?" Sam asked, laughing. "You should know by now, nothing ever changes."

"Well, actually..." Jack said without thinking, and then he stopped, because he heard the words in stereo and realized Daniel had said them, too. Which meant...something, probably. Not the same thing as a box of Kleenex, but something.

"Okay, so...you ordered pizza," Daniel said. "And Jack insisted on sausage and peppers and extra onions, and we're all going to be sorry he did."

"Got it in one, Doctor," Sam said cheerfully.

"We are fortunate it is a temperate evening," Teal'c said. "Perhaps we should open the windows to their fullest extent now, as a precautionary measure."

"Hey!" Jack said. "I remember a few missions where you--"

"Sir," Sam broke in, "trust me, there's no comparison."

"Incomparable, that's me," Jack said.

"You have to start eating better," Daniel said, his voice full of laughter, and then the doorbell rang, so Jack didn't have to say, _I've been thinking the same thing._

 

**2\. In Which the Road Goes On Forever**  
 _A happy, gen story involving major character deaths and some hugging._

"Jack...?" 

That was Daniel's voice. It was always Daniel's voice. 

Jack opened his eyes and found himself lying on the floor of a diner, with Daniel hovering over him. He sat up, sure that something was very wrong, but not sure whether he wanted to know what. "Where are we?" he finally asked, because old habits were hard to break, and that question seemed least likely to lead to a long explanation.

"Well, before, it was a kind of waiting room," Daniel said. 

Okay, so Daniel was still Daniel, still making no sense. Jack looked around, confirming his initial assessment. "We're in a diner," he said.

Daniel turned around slowly, clearly taking in the room for the first time. When he turned back to Jack, he was frowning. "Oh, sorry," he said, and the diner faded, and then dissolved into a mist. Jack caught a glimpse of a beige wall and a gurney and someone in scrubs, and then a green wall and a gurney and someone in scrubs, and then everything faded into a peaceful blue swirly cloud. It was nice, the cloud. Restful. A good place to...

"Wait!" Jack said. "Before? A waiting room? Daniel, did you _die_ on me again?"

Daniel chewed his lip, shuffled, and peered at Jack. "You don't remember?"

Jack stood up shakily. He put out his hand, and it sank into the blur swirly cloud surrounding them, but his feet seemed to be on solid...something. He did a standard recon, but everywhere he looked all he saw was swirly blue, which wasn't all that helpful, considering he really _couldn't_ remember. "You were..." he said slowly. "And there were...and then there were Replicators, and they were..." He shook his head, trying to make sense of the jumbled images in his brain. "I got to the...and I was...and then..." He peered at Daniel. "Boom?"

"Boom," Daniel agreed soberly.

"So...we're both dead?"

"Apparently."

"And we're...we're ascended?"

"Uh, yeah. Sort of."

"You know," Jack said, fighting the urge to pace because his feet might sink right through the swirly blue cloud, which would be damned undignified, and maybe hurtle him to some other room -- the commissary, maybe -- with a more solid floor, but a lot less Daniel, "I'm not..."

"I think that's why we're here," Daniel interrupted, so Jack didn't have to point out just why Jack O'Neill, late of the United States Air Force, wasn't Ascended Being material. "Though...maybe this is always the first stop. I don't remember too much of what happened the first time."

"And they say you always remember your--"

" _Jack,_ " Daniel said, and he could still roll his eyes, so dead and ascended weren't really all that different from not dead, and not ascended. "Listen--" Daniel began, but Jack cut him off.

"Sam and Teal'c...if they..." he waved a hand, "you know..."

Daniel closed his eyes and was silent for a long moment, as though he were listening to the word from On High, or a heavenly choir. Possibly, Jack thought, he was. "When it's their time, when they...uh...die, we'll meet them here," Daniel finally said, opening his eyes. "Well, not _here_ exactly. The Ascended create a specific place for each person, to ease the transition from life to the, um...higher plane. They extrapolate, based on each person's mental association with waiting." He flashed Jack a look. "It seems Sam's idea of endless waiting is being in your office."

"It is not!" Jack retorted automatically.

Daniel was now grinning. "With you. When you're talking about fishing."

"You made that up," Jack said, eyes narrowing.

"Teal'c's is outside his mother-in-law's house on Chulak," Daniel went on cheerfully. "No, wait, it's with Sam at the little video rental place on Millbrook, next to the drycleaners. What's up with that, do you suppose?"

"Well, we were in some kind of diner. Or a Waffle House," Jack pointed out. "Which reminds me, _why_ were we in a Waffle House?"

"It's...uh...a place _I_ associate with waiting," Daniel said.

Jack didn't ask why. "Huh," he said. "So mine was..." He gestured to the swirly blue cloud surrounding them.

"Uh, yours was a hospital," Daniel said with an apologetic shrug. "So I asked them to..." he gestured to the swirly cloud, which was now shot through with some greens and purples.

"Ah," Jack said. "Well that was...yeah. Good choice." So Daniel was looking out for him here, too. Really, it was going to be hard to remember this was the afterlife. Though...probably there weren't staff briefings here. "So...we're waiting for...a cab?"

"No," Daniel said patiently.

"Train?"

"No."

"Bus? Plane?"

" _No._ "

"Horse-drawn carriage?"

Daniel gave up then, but his tiny smile told Jack that this, too, was just the same, no matter what plane of existence you were on. "I think we're here to decide what's next," he told Jack.

"Like -- dinner first, or a movie?"

"Like whether we want to stay," Daniel said quietly.

"Oh," Jack said. "That's an option? We can descend, or whatever, like you did before? Go back to our bodies, to our lives on Earth?" He frowned at Daniel. "Wait. There was a boom. There is still life on Earth, right?"

Daniel made his listening face again, and then said, "Earth's there. Teal'c and Sam are fine. Everybody else is fine, in fact. But, uh, I was only partly right."

"Only partly? You?" Jack decided not to gloat; Daniel had friends in high places. "Which part?"

"You can go back," Daniel said.

"And you can't?"

Daniel shrugged. "I guess I used my 'get out of ascension free' card already."

"Huh," Jack said. "Well, if you're staying..."

"Jack you don't have to--"

But Jack held up his hand. "Yeah, Daniel," he said. "Actually, I do."

"No one gets left behind?" Daniel asked, his voice hitching just a bit.

"Even in the afterlife," Jack said. "Or wherever we are. Besides, you're not the only Ascended person I know. Kasuf and Ska'ara and the gang have to be around somewhere. What would they think if I left without even saying hello?"

Daniel nodded, but didn't say anything. That wasn't exactly a surprise; Jack hadn't been able to get Daniel to say anything about Abydos since the whole thing with Anubis. And he'd tried, though not as an all-powerful being. Being all-powerful had to help a little; though this was Daniel, so maybe not. "Where do you suppose Ska'ara and Kasuf waited?" he pressed. "And where do you suppose they are now? I mean, Ascended beings can choose any form, create any reality, am I right?"

Daniel tried to look away, but Jack caught his eye, willing him to understand. 

"The Abydonians, they didn't know about ascension. About Oma. Right?" Jack went on. "Probably they chose to be like they were." Really, _something_ had to be different here. What was the point of being in a higher plane of existence, if they couldn't catch a break here, either? 

"What?"

" _Where_ they were," Jack added.

"Jack, they were on..."

"Abydos," Jack said. He nodded. "That's what they chose, I bet. To live in the form they knew best, in the place they loved best. Abydos. A recreation of Abydos, maybe. But Abydos."

"I--" Daniel began.

"And I bet we can go there," Jack said.

Daniel's eyes got wide. He listened to the choir again, breathing faster and faster -- who knew you could breathe in the afterlife? -- and said, "They're...yeah. They're all...except Paa'ma and Jek'rha. Remember them? They chose to, you know..." Daniel gestured with one hand, in what was apparently the universal sign language for _be a glowy energy thingy._ But the others..."

"We can go to Abydos," Jack said. "We can live there as long as we want. Forever, even. And no one will get sick, or be hungry. No bad guys will show up. We can just live in that beautiful place, with those nice folks, in peace." 

Daniel looked completely poleaxed, and then he frowned. "I--"

"I know it wouldn't be the same as...as the first time, when you and Sha're...and I know you think -- look, Daniel, we paid our dues," Jack said hurriedly. " _You_ paid your dues. I know you think you have to, you know, pay more. But maybe this doesn't have to be so hard. Maybe it's okay to--"

"It can't be this easy," Daniel said. "We should--"

"I'll bet you can even leave when you want to," Jack broke in. "You can go all glowy and float off to see the galaxy, or learn the meaning of life, or rescue the people who need rescuing, or whatever. Just -- when you're done, then you can go back."

Daniel closed his eyes again and listened, almost fearfully, and then, slowly, incrementally, he nodded. 

Jack could see tears in Daniel's eyes, and wondered if the Ascended had some form of Kleenex. Maybe when he was more used to being an all-powerful energy-being, he could conjure up whatever anyone needed, whenever they needed it. It was nice, the idea of being so eternally useful. "I'll go with you then, too," he said, checking his pants pockets. "When you go off to do whatever you need to do." He found an unused Dunkin Donuts napkin and offered it to Daniel.

Daniel took it with a watery smile and wiped his nose. "Going to watch my six?"

"Naw. You won't need it, being all-powerful, and everything. And you know, energy thingy. No six. I'm just thinking that if you went without me, when you came back you'd want to tell me about everything you saw. _Jack, I created a supernova. Jack, I learned every language ever spoken anywhere, ever. Jack, I destroyed Evil, saved the Universe, and introduced coffee to the far reaches of the galaxy._ Yadda, yadda yadda. I'm going with you out of self-defense. You know how bored I get when you talk to me."

The swirly clouds firmed, and then they parted. Before Jack's fascinated eyes, a yellow brick road formed, stretching out toward what he supposed was the Higher-Plane equivalent of the horizon. On the road, waiting patiently, was a bus. A very large bus. A large, flying bus, with gauzy grey wings, and a sign on the front reading, "To Abydos". Jack nudged Daniel's shoulder until he turned around. They stood for a minute, staring at the bus, grinning at each other, and then staring at the bus some more.

After a while Daniel prodded Jack, and they started walking toward their ride. "So, let me get this straight," Daniel said, in that breathless way he had that meant he was trying to be casual, but had just stumbled onto something utterly amazing and was afraid no one would let him stick around to look at it. "You're willing to travel with me through the universe, just to keep me from talking to you when I get back?"

"Your constant yammering would make me crazy," Jack explained. "And the noise would scare off the fish."

Daniel stopped in his tracks, the lure of the flying bus forgotten for a moment. "The _fish_? You're planning on fishing? On _Abydos_? Jack, Abydos is...it's a desert. There's not going to be any fishing."

"We're Ascended, right? And the Ascended can shape space and time and reality, right?" Jack asked.

Daniel just stared.

"There'll be fishing, Daniel," Jack said. "There'll even be fish."

"Okay," Daniel breathed.

So really, it was better than being alive, because here, he could get Daniel to agree with him. And it was just as good as being alive, because Daniel proved right then and there that Ascended beings could not only walk and argue, they could laugh and hug, too.

 

**3\. In Which Jack Discovers the True Meaning of "A Pain in the Mitka"**  
 _A somewhat indelicate tale of politics, friendship, holding it in, and holding on._

"At least Teal'c and Sam got offworld before...before everything fell apart," Daniel said, his voice muffled, but still, irritatingly enough, clear. "At least they're together on Chulak. At least they're safe."

"At least," Jack said through gritted teeth.

"And...our cells are next to each other," Daniel went on. 

"And don't I give thanks for _that_ ," Jack muttered.

Daniel sighed so loudly Jack could hear it through the steel and concrete. "Jack--"

"Just--just _don't_ , okay? I'm pissed, Daniel, and I have a right to be pissed." Jack rubbed his eyes. "I thought we got rid of that slime Kinsey. I thought we wouldn't have to worry about _our_ side anymore."

"Our side's been the wrong side before," Daniel's voice came through the air vent in the cell wall. "Remember what happened with the Tollans? Not to mention Makepeace and Simmons. Something like this was bound to happen eventually."

"How can you be so--? _Damn it_ , Daniel, we've been thrown in jail by our own country! We'll probably spend the rest of our lives in this stinking prison, if they don't shoot us for treason. Or they might just leave us here to rot -- the guards haven't been by for almost half an hour now, though you're probably too busy talking to notice little things like that." He took a few deep breaths, but it was like trying to dam a tidal wave with a wad of tissue paper. "We'd need a ton of explosives just to get out of these cells, and _then_ we'd probably have to get the hell off Earth, and I don't even know where we are. We're screwed, Daniel, _screwed_ , and you just want to sit there and--"

"Jack, listen, we--"

"NO! Don't rationalize this, Daniel. Don't explain it, don't make the best of it. Don't tell me the historical perspective you've put this in. Just, _don't._ "

"Jack! I--"

"Daniel, don't you get it?" Jack tried not to clench his fists; punching a prison wall never helped. "We have _nobody_. There's nobody on Earth who can help us. And I didn't even...I didn't tell Teal'c and Carter, I didn't tell Cassie...Damn! I could have at least warned them to--"

"But _Jack_ \--"

The urge to punch something--or someone--was almost overwhelming. "Daniel, are you listening to me? Because there are a few things I could tell _you_ right now."

"JACK!"

"DANIEL!" Jack yelled, grabbing the bars in the cell door. "When I say 'a few things to tell you,' I mean where to go, and what to do with yourself when you get there! I swear, Daniel, sometimes you are so completely full of--"

"Don't!" Daniel's voice came through the concrete, high and tight. "Skip that part, okay? Look, Jack, if you just stop _whining_ and listen--"

" _Damn!_ " said a voice that wasn't Daniel's. "Don't the two of you _ever_ shut up?"

Strangely, this did, in fact, shut Daniel up, leaving Jack to croak out a bewildered, "What?"

"The two of you will be arguing in the afterlife," the voice called out again, a little louder, a little nearer. "Or have you done that already?"

" _Maybourne?_ " Jack asked, incredulity raising his voice to a pitch not usually associated with macho Air Force colonels.

"After all we've been through, I like to think we're on a first name basis, Jack," Maybourne said as he rounded the corner and came into view of Jack's cell. He was unshaven and grinning, wearing a set of filthy camos, and carrying a bulging canvas bag clearly crammed with the essentials for breaking unjustly imprisoned good guys out of jail. Jack thought briefly of telling him he was beautiful. 

"Nice of you to drop in," Daniel called from the next cell. "We get so few visitors."

"Nice of you to let your friends know your new address," Maybourne said, deftly pushing some plastic explosives into the locks of their cells. "Stand back, kids."

Jack complied, covering his ears as the C-4 took out the lock and part of the door. Maybourne was always a bit too lavish with the explosives -- not that Jack was complaining. He quickly exited what was left of his cell, looked over to check that Daniel still had both ears and ten fingers, and turned to Maybourne. "I think I could kiss you. What about the guards?"

"Teal'c and Feretti are zatting them as we speak," Maybourne said. "The power lines are cut, and so are the phone lines. Cell phone transmissions are jammed. But I can't take all the credit, Jack," he went on, nodding at Daniel. "Maybe you should kiss Dr. Jackson first. But do it quick; we need to move."

"Daniel...? Something you want to share?" Jack asked.

"I've been _trying_ to tell you," Daniel huffed. "If you would have just shut up for a minute, and _listened_ , I could have explained--"

"In an effort to get our asses out of here this year, let me give you the condensed version," Maybourne interrupted. "Dr. Jackson got a message to the suddenly-retired General Hammond before the roof caved in on you two. Hammond got in touch with Walter Harriman, who got word to Feretti, who got Siler to jerryrig the Gate so he could get a message through to Teal'c and Major Carter. Carter contacted the Tok'ra and the Asgard. After she suggested my, uh, special skills might be helpful, the Tok'ra picked me up, and we all came here on an Asgard ship. Carter's waiting to beam us up right now. After that, we all live happily ever after. Okay? You can have the version with pictures later. Now, _move._ "

Jack moved. Maybourne handed him a zat from his bag of tricks. Jack thought nothing had ever felt as good in his hands. He looked over at Daniel, who was hugging his own zat. Daniel was a little green, but otherwise looked pretty much as he always did after being betrayed, kidnapped, or falsely imprisoned.

Since Daniel was fine, and the hallway was empty except for a neat stack of zatted bodies, Jack asked the question that had been bugging him. "How did you know where we were? We've been moved every few days, and I'm pretty sure this lovely little set-up's not an official military prison."

Maybourne grinned. "That would be courtesy of Dr. Jackson's homing device," he said.

Jack drew up short, which was just as well, as zat fire began to echo from around the next corner. "His... _homing device?_ " 

The zatting stopped. Jack could hear Teal'c's voice from Maybourne's radio. "We are clear, Colonel Maybourne, but reinforcements may yet arrive. I suggest we head to the rendezvous site immediately. Major Carter cannot beam us up from our current location."

"You had a homing device?' Jack repeated. "Daniel, you never said--"

"Like you said, we were under constant surveillance until half an hour ago," Daniel pointed out. "I could hardly say, hey, Jack, guess what, before we were grabbed I swallowed a--"

"Move, guys," Maybourne urged.

" _Swallowed?_ " Jack said, automatically raising his zat, scanning the hallway, and setting off in the direction that Maybourne pointed. None of this kept him from staring at Daniel. " _Swallowed?_ "

Luckily, the only guards around were heaped on the floor, zatted.

"Uh, yeah," Daniel admitted.

"Daniel," Jack hissed. "You _do_ know how long ago we were arrested?"

"I, uh, know," Daniel said faintly.

Jack's eyebrows shot up.

"I'll steer clear of the obvious 'tight ass' jokes," Maybourne said. 

And Daniel, the little rat, actually laughed. 

And that had Maybourne laughing, so that Jack barely heard his, "Okay, boys and girls, time to say bye-bye!" Jack was thoroughly appreciative, though, when Maybourne touched a device on his wrist, and the oh-so-welcome glow of an Asgard beam bathed the hall in a brilliant glow.

The guard who got there a split second too late to stop the escape reported that he was unable to ascertain where the prisoners were headed. He was, however, able to report that O'Neill's final words were, "I'm just saying, you could have _told_ me. Just think, I was right when I told you were you completely full of ---"

Jackson's, for some reason, were, "Don't, Jack! Just _don't._ "

 

**4\. In Which Jack Has a Bad Taste in His Mouth**  
 _Jack does some damn distasteful things._

"I still don't want to talk about it," Jack said as they tramped over another hill. P3 something-something. A little mineral survey, a little recon, a little poking at some ruins. A cake-walk, after that last mission, which hadn't involved anything as normal and soothing as walking. Or, for that matter, cake.

"But--" Daniel began.

"And _still_ ," Jack said. Clomp, clomp, clomp. Boots were normal. Recon was normal. Daniel being annoying was normal. Daniel shutting up would be better, but normal was good.

"But, Jack--"

"This is me," Jack said. "Not wanting to talk about it." He poked at his radio, hoping Carter would decide to report in about the mineral deposits she and Teal'c were looking for. Unfortunately, she had nothing to say -- unlike Daniel, who, despite his twenty-three languages, had apparently never run across the phrase, "silence is golden."

"I--"

"Daniel! What did I just say?"

"You don't want to talk about it," Daniel repeated obediently.

"Thank you," Jack said.

"There were flies," Daniel said.

Jack turned on him, thinking of his black op days, and not trying all that hard to hide it.

"They were kind of big," Daniel said, as though he were discussing something other than what he was, in fact, discussing. "And that makes sense, because relatively, so were you. But still, I can see how...well, _flies_ , Jack. You should talk about it."

"I could kill you," Jack said through clenched teeth.

"Well, now," Daniel agreed. "It would have been hard, then. I mean, what were you going to do? Chirp me to death? Sure, it was unbelievably irritating, that sound you were making, but I don't think it could have killed me." He chewed on his lip. "I don't _think_ ," he repeated.

Jack just stared at him. What else, really, was there to do?

"It's called stridulation," Daniel said brightly.

"What?"

"The chirping. You know, that sound that crickets make. They stridulate."

Jack stopped in his tracks, wheeled on Daniel, abruptly turned back, and began stomping down the path again. "That -- Daniel, I _know_ what sounds crickets make. And I was _not_ a cricket."

Daniel matched his pace. "Not a true cricket, no. For one thing, you were somewhat bigger than the average Jimin--"

"Daniel!"

"Than the average cricket," Daniel continued smoothly. "You wouldn't have made it as fish bait. Except maybe for Moby Dick. Also, true crickets have auditory organs on the front tibiae, while you--"

Jack's anger suddenly seeped away, and with it the will to put one foot in front of another. He sighed, started to lean against a tree, caught sight of something creeping up the side, thought better of the tree, sighed again, and looked mournfully at Daniel. "Could you just shoot me now and get it over with?"

"Sorry," Daniel said. "Didn't bring the Raid."

Jack hung his head in defeat. "Okay, Daniel. You win. I was a cricket. Okay? I was a big, honking cricket."

"You're not now," Daniel pointed out.

"I wouldn't be so quick to remind me," Jack said. " 'Cause then I might also remember that I have hands, and that I can use them to beat the crap out of you."

"Sam says you won't eat," Daniel said. He dug through his pockets, fishing out a power bar.

"Not when _she's_ cooking, no," Jack said.

"Teal'c noticed it, too. And Janet says you've lost four pounds."

"I haven't been hungry," Jack said.

"Uh-huh," Daniel said. He opened the power bar, tugged it into two pieces, and offered one to Jack.

Jack shook his head at the power bar. He looked down, and then up at the pinkish-purply alien sky. "I can't do this anymore," he finally said, sinking down into the soft grass at the base of the tree. He let his head fall back onto the scratchy bark. Something tickled his neck, but he couldn't muster the energy to brush it away.

Daniel settled next to him. "Jack--" he began, but Jack shook his head.

"No, Daniel," he said, closing his eyes. "I thought I could, but I...I can't. This is it. I can't tolerate any more weirdness. I'm quitting. I've decided, and you're not going to talk me out of it. I'm telling Hammond as soon as we get back to the SGC."

"Okay," Daniel said.

Jack opened his eyes and leaned forward. "Don't even start with--what? What do you mean, 'okay'?"

Daniel shrugged. "You said your mind's made up. So...okay. If your weird-o-meter broke because you got in touch with your inner antennae, if some big bugs could do what the Goa'uld couldn't..."

"Damn it! That's not fair, Daniel."

"Oh, you want _fair_ ," Daniel said around a mouth of power bar. "Well then, yeah. You should definitely look for a new job."

They sat side by side for a moment, and then Jack sighed. "Flies, Daniel," he said quietly. He turned, finally meeting Daniel's eyes. " _Flies._ "

Daniel nodded.

"I mean...when I...uh...came to, you know? When I was me again? I was eating..."

"Uh, yeah," Daniel said. "I know. I was there."

"Yes, but _you_ weren't eating flies," Jack said.

"Well, no," Daniel said, shoving the remains of his power bar back in his jacket. "Not then."

"Not -- you've eaten flies?"

"I've eaten all sorts of things," Daniel said. "Sheep's eyes. Stuffed derma. Chocolate-covered cric...er, ants. And not because I wanted to, most of the time."

"Yeah, but you're..."

"Brave?" Daniel asked with a small smile. "Courageous? Adaptable? Pragmatic?"

"Well, I was going to go with 'weird', but okay."

"You're brave," Daniel said. "And adaptable."

"I'm not weird."

Daniel looked over his glasses. "Jury's out. You were, after all, a giant cricket."

"Once," Jack protested.

Without any discussion or signal, they stood up at the same time, resettled their packs, and found their way back to the path.

"Burger with onions," Daniel said after a minute.

"What?"

"And French fries. But not the crinkly kind. The skinny kind. With ketchup."

"That sounds...well, good, actually," Jack said. "But what are you talking about?"

"A burger with onions and fries. That's what gets the taste out of your mouth. In fact, that pretty much takes the whole oral memory away."

"Oral memory?"

Daniel shrugged. "That's how I think of it. Because the texture of a sheep's eye is kind of--"

"Okay! Okay! I get it!"

"It could have been worse, you know," Daniel said, pushing a branch out of his way, and holding it back for Jack.

"I don't think I want to hear this," Jack said, carefully easing the branch back. Something flew out, buzzing. Jack glared at it.

"No one took pictures. No one put you in a top hat or an ascot," Daniel said. "No one asked you to sing, 'When You Wish Upon a Star'. No one called you -- how does it go? Uh...oh, right: 'Lord High Keeper of the Knowledge of Right and Wrong, Counselor in Moments of Temptation, and Guide along the Straight and Narrow Path'."

"Well, no," Jack said. "That's _your_ job. But -- wait, you _know_ the whole Jiminy Cricket thing? By _heart?_ "

"I--" Daniel began.

"Okay, _one_ of your jobs," Jack said. "After knowing weird things. Scary, weird, things." He gave Daniel a look. "And just for that, I'm giving you got another job. Paying."

"Paying?"

"For the burgers. And the fries. And for the beer, too. You're taking the team out to dinner."

"The team? Our team, SG-1?" Daniel asked.

"You've got another?"

"Uh, no," Daniel said. "But didn't you just--"

"No arguments," Jack warned.

"None?"

"Not unless you want me to stridulate you," Jack said.

_Note: "Lord High Keeper of the Knowledge of Right and Wrong, Counselor in Moments of Temptation, and Guide along the Straight and Narrow Path" is a direct quote from the Disney website...or one of the official Jiminy Cricket websites, anyway. I do my research, but sometimes I forget to take notes._

 

**5\. In Which Jack Plans Ahead, in Triplicate**  
 _Jack and Daniel communicate, sort of._

"Washington, huh?" Daniel asked, toying with the slinky on Jack's desk.

Jack nodded, though Daniel wasn't looking at him. Daniel would know he was nodding; that was good enough. "Uh-huh," he said.

"Nice touch," Daniel said, nudging the slinky a little to the left. "Letting us all know in a memo."

Jack leaned back in his chair, wondering if he could requisition a new one when he started his new job. One like Hammond's, maybe. "Well, you know. Washington's full of paper-pushers," Jack said, tapping his keyboard as though to demonstrate. "I figured as long as I was joining the ranks, I might as well jump in with both...fingers."

"Uh-huh," Daniel said.

"You should've done it, too," Jack said. "Written a memo. Nice, clear, to the point. _I'm going to Atlantis,_ you could've said. Think how much time it would've saved you. I mean, you went around telling people, for crying out loud. How many of 'em yelled, _You're what?_ and made you say it again?"

"Uh, just you, actually," Daniel said. He picked up the slinky, hefted it, and passed it from hand to hand a few times. Jack could just imagine him writing up a report on the damn thing, as if it were an artifact. _Found in the abandoned office of a military officer, the device seems to have symbolized the unending nature of his duties._

Or his friendships, maybe.

"You know," Jack said, leaning forward a bit, trying to get Daniel to look at him, "with Atlantis having a ZPM, your commute will probably be shorter than mine."

"My commute?" Daniel repeated, dropping the slinky on a stack on papers and frowning. The slinky slid off the edge of the pile, hit an outdated budget report, flipped and walked down three classified briefing papers, and came to rest on a half-done crossword puzzle from a week-old newspaper. Both Jack and Daniel watched its progression before resuming their conversation, Daniel with an abstracted air, Jack with rapt fascination. He loved his slinky.

"Your commute," Jack finally said. "From Atlantis. When you, you know, come home for the holidays."

"I--I'm commuting? To...from...what holidays?"

"You know," Jack said airily, sweeping a hand to indicate the vast reaches of holiday-ness. "Holidays. Also special occasions. And, of course, emergencies."

"Emergencies," Daniel parroted.

"What if I screw up my hard drive again, and I can't get in touch with Carter?"

"It'll match your head," Daniel said. "Jack--"

"Don't die over there in the Pegasus galaxy," Jack blurted, looking at the slinky. "And don't get killed." He looked up, then, to be sure Daniel was really listening. Daniel had a bad habit of not listening. "I know that kind of thing is hard for you, but don't. That's an order."

"So I heard," Daniel said, smiling a little. "McKay told me you sent a five-page memo to Sheppard and Dr. Weir on that very thing."

"McKay didn't get his?" Jack fretted. "I sent him one."

"McKay's was eight pages," Daniel said. He leaned onto Jack's desk, neatly avoiding a precariously stacked pile of file folders. "He showed it to me. One page was headed, 'Resuscitation Techniques Likely to be Effective on Temporarily Dead Archeologists'." 

Jack couldn't tell if Daniel was annoyed, or just hiding his amusement very, very well. He thought Daniel should be a little impressed; that list had taken a while to compile. Research wasn't really Jack's thing. "And your point is...?" Jack asked.

"Two pages outlined what would happen to McKay in the event of my death, temporary or otherwise," Daniel went on. "The poor guy was practically shaking, Jack. We were sitting in the commissary, and he could hardly get his not-Lemon Chicken into his mouth. What do you have against him?"

"Nothing," Jack said.

"Right," Daniel said, sinking back into his chair again. He picked up the slinky and turned it over a few times before looking at Jack. "Why don't you like him?"

"I like him fine," Jack protested. He reached for the slinky; Daniel didn't know how to play with one properly. "I just like you better. And anyway, I'm nice--"

Daniel made a face.

" _Reasonably_ nice to you and Carter," Jack finished. "You two are my limit, as far as tolerating scientists. If I'm nice to McKay, too, I'll probably rupture something. And I'll ruin my reputation."

"I knew there had to be a rational explanation," Daniel said.

"Christmas," Jack said. "I already squared it with Weir. You get two weeks. You and Carter and Teal'c will meet up here at the SGC. Siler promised to have one of the pool cars ready for you guys."

"So we can drive to...?"

Jack looked at him like he'd suddenly become stupid. "My place in Minnesota, of course. I put on an addition, so no one would have to sleep in the living room."

"Well, that's...I don't know what to say, Jack."

Jack said nothing.

"Jack...?"

"Ssshh," Jack said. "Let me savor the moment. Usually it's _you_ who says something that leaves _me_ speechless."

"Okay," Daniel said. He sat back and hummed for a minute. Then he began whistling, and then drumming his fingers on Jack's desk. "Done now?"

"It's a family thing," Jack said. "Spending holidays together. Checking in. Reconnecting. I know you don't know much about that kind of thing--"

"Actually," Daniel broke in, "I do."

"Oh," Jack stammered. "I didn't mean to--"

"That's why Teal'c, Sam and I got tickets already. We're flying from Colorado Springs. Teal'c and I figure it'll save on speeding tickets for Sam. You'll have to pick us up in St. Paul on the 24th."

"Oh. Well, good. That's good. Good planning. I can do that."

"How big is the addition, anyway?"

"Why? Planning on bringing a date?"

"Not exactly," Daniel said. "But given how stressed poor Dr. Weir's going to be the whole time I'm at Atlantis, I'm thinking she could use a nice break over Christmas."

Jack gave him a look.

"Also Sheppard. And of course, McKay. And--"

Jack sighed. "Or, we could have Christmas at Atlantis. Or...Thanksgiving. Though Halloween comes first, and that's -- oh, no, first there's Labor Day. We could send a _really_ big barbecue through the Gate, and...what?"

Daniel stood up. "Nothing," he said, though his smile said otherwise. "Just -- you're going to do a good job, running the show in Washington. Even if you _are_ going to be a paper-pusher."

Jack just looked at him for a minute. "Thanks. You'll, uh -- Atlantis will be lucky to have you."

"Thanks."

"And, actually -- I do have some ideas. About some things I think the SGC should be doing. And some things your team should be working on, looking at, in the Pegasus Galaxy. Because the way I see it, Daniel, you guys should be--"

But Daniel stopped him. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Send me a memo."

 

**6\. In Which Various People Snipe, Lie, and Debate the Meaning of Life**  
 _A sappy little story about war, anger and vengeance._

The bell rang for the twelfth time.

Jack flung the door open. His annoyance was palpable; his glare would have made a group of new recruits pee in their pants. "What?" he barked.

Daniel, who'd never been a new recruit, held out a white paper bag. "You left in kind of a hurry," he said. "You left this behind."

Jack stared at him for a minute, and then reached for the bag as though it might contain explosives, or an irate skunk, or both. He peered inside, and then looked back at Daniel. "It's a cheese Danish, Daniel."

"Yes," Daniel said.

"I left a cheese Danish?"

Daniel barreled into the little rental house, though he was well aware Jack knew eight ways to kill a man with his bare hands. "In the sense that we always used to meet for breakfast on Mondays, and you always used to have a cheese Danish, yes," he said. "In that you left on Sunday, without telling anyone you were going."

"Huh," Jack said. "I knew I was going to forget something. I just didn't realize it would be...a pastry."

"So many things to do, what with taking a new job," Daniel said. "I can see how a few things might have slipped your mind. Breakfast. Forwarding your magazine subscriptions. Telling the people you'd worked with for _eight freaking years._ "

Jack strode into the living room. "I'm not in the mood for pissy, Daniel," he called over his shoulder.

Daniel followed him. "And I'm not in the mood for stupid, Jack."

Jack let out a long breath, and sat on one of the two uncomfortable armchairs that had come with the house, cradling the bakery bag in his lap. "Okay," he said. "You're right, I'm sorry."

Daniel just stared at him, eyes blazing.

"You can sit, you know. Just, not there -- that chair's like a rock. Try the couch."

Daniel planted his feet. "You were saying...?"

Jack sighed. "Daniel, you know...I don't do very well with...I just figured it would be easier to leave without a whole big..."

"Well, you were right about that," Daniel said, finally sitting on the couch. He made a face, got up, fished under the cushion, pulled out a Magic 8-Ball and a _Sports Illustrated_ , and sat down again. His expression was hard to read. "Good tactical decision."

Jack eyed him. "You -- seriously?"

"Sure," Daniel said. "It fostered team unity. Well, for me, Sam and Teal'c, anyway. First we all had a few drinks together. Quite a few. Then we went to target practice."

"Tar...target practice?"

"At the SGC," Daniel went on. "Sam can get in anytime, did you know that?"

"That's...uh...nice."

"We replaced the usual targets with pictures of you," Daniel said. "Sam got eight bullseyes in a row. She would have gotten more, but she was a little drunk." He leaned forward. "Don't ask what part of you was the bullseye."

"I won't," Jack said.

"Then, after Sam decided to go home, Teal'c and I talked for while. About life, and brotherhood, and what's really important -- the big stuff, or the little stuff."

"I'm thinking you decided the big stuff," Jack said.

"You'd think," Daniel said. "Saving the world. Freeing your people. Defeating the bad guys. You'd think that would pretty much be the meaning-of-life stuff."

"And...it's not?"

Daniel gave him a look. "Of course it's important, you idiot. It's just -- the other stuff is important, too. The little universe of people around you. Your family. Your friends. That's...that's where your real influence is, maybe. The one you can see. The one that matters the most."

"And saving the world...?"

"Comes a close second," Daniel said. "But if you have to have one or the other -- being there for the world, or being there for your friends -- I think...I think the one that would leave you half a person is the one where you're only there for the world."

"Well, yeah, except you'd be dead, with everybody else, what with there being no world, and all," Jack said, but he could see Daniel wasn't buying it. Jack wasn't even sure _he_ bought it, though he wasn't about to admit that to someone who'd come all the way from Colorado to argue the point. Jack sighed, pulled the clearly-stale Danish out of the bag, and held it out to Daniel. Daniel shook his head, so Jack took a bite and choked it down. "So," he said when his throat was clear. "You draw the short straw again?"

Daniel shrugged. "Sam went to see Jacob. Teal'c decided to go back to Chulak. This was on my way. Besides, I had the Danish."

"On your way to...?"

Daniel's only answer was to leaf through the magazine he'd found under the cushion. "Huh," he murmured. "You'd think the Canes would wait and see how ticket sales went before they traded anybody."

"Daniel...?"

Daniel looked up. "I'm sorry; were you talking to me?"

"Where is this on your way to?"

"Look at the time!" Daniel said, popping up. "Sorry, Jack. Have to run."

"You have to -- Daniel?"

"Places to go. Things to do. New job, new city to move to. Busy, busy, busy."

"And you're not going to tell me where?" Jack said, following Daniel out of the room. "You're just going to... not eat and run? Daniel, that's petty."

"Yeah," Daniel said, moving toward the door, and pointedly not looking at Jack. "I thought so, too. You know, taking off without telling anyone."

"I can find out where you're going," Jack said to his back.

"Yeah, you can," Daniel said to the door. "But it's not the same as me coming by and telling you myself, Jack. Trust me, not the same at all."

"It's not like you to hold a grudge," Jack said.

"Huh," Daniel said. He was at the door, his hand on the knob. "I guess things change. Even when you don't want them to. Even when no one lets you know."

"Daniel--" Jack said.

"Enjoy your breakfast," Daniel said, finally turning around. "Oh, and when you're done, you might want to call the department that handles trash collections back in Colorado Springs. There are three broken motorcycles, a box of shot-up photos, a bookcase that was kicked to pieces, and a pile of old clothes on your old front lawn. I hear you've run up a pretty big fine. Something about illegal disposal, or inappropriate disposal, or something. Apparently there's a right way to leave things, and a wrong way." He was smiling, but it was the smile that said, _screw you, asshole._

"Daniel--"

"Bye," Daniel said.

And then Jack was alone with a stale Danish. "Yeah," he said, because he was still trying not to say goodbye.

* * *

  
Two weeks later, after a number of fruitless phone calls to disconnected numbers, and aborted searches that all ended with "left no forwarding address", Jack sat in his new office facing Major Paul Davis.

"There's good news and bad news, Sir," Davis said.

"There's good news?" Jack asked suspiciously.

"Well, no," Davis conceded. "Though I can continue as your adjutant and Pentagon liaison for a few more weeks."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "And...?"

'And then you'll probably have to get someone else. But by then you should be used to the rest of your new staff, so--"

"The rest of -- my new staff?" Jack interrupted.

Davis winced. "Sorry, Sir. I tried. And General Hammond tried, too. But the UN had demands, and the international community had demands, and the Senate..."

"Had demands," Jack finished. "No one trusts me, do they?"

"The idea of Homeworld Security -- that we _need_ homeworld security -- has been difficult for...a lot of people," Davis said. "And you're not a known quantity to a lot of people. And to the people who do know you..."

"Yeah, yeah," Jack said. "I get the picture." He sighed. "So, my new staff...?"

Davis straightened up and took a few prudent steps away from the desk. He wouldn't meet Jack's eyes, which Jack took as a bad sign. "Well, there's been a consensus that Homeworld Security needs the input of an independent technical staff headed by a senior advisor."

"A scientist?" Jack said.

"A civilian scientist, yes. Someone who can evaluate technologies we find and build. Someone who can assess all known and prospective offensive and defensive weaponry."

"Can I have--?"

"A _civilian_ , Sir," Davis repeated. "Both the, uh, Senate and the representatives of the international community were quite specific about that." He stood for a moment, clearly not saying something.

"Spit it out, Major," Jack said.

"They, uh...well, Sir, they also requested that the chief technical advisor be...uh..."

Jack raised his eyebrows. Davis did not look at all comfortable. Under other circumstances, Jack might have been flattered.

"They, uh, felt that it was important that the person not be an ally of yours," Davis finally said.

"An ally? Is that another way of saying, this scientist shouldn't _like_ me?"

"Well, yes, Sir."

"Well, then, you should have a quite a field to choose from," Jack said. He waved a hand wearily. "Who else joins our happy little band?"

"A diplomatic liaison, to deal with on- and off-world nations and interests."

"Do they want someone who doesn't like me for that, too? Because Daniel would be perfect for--"

"Sorry, Sir. I haven't been able to track him down."

"Peachy," Jack sighed. "Keep the hits rolling, Major."

"Military advisors. The usual representatives from the international community--"

"They won't _all_ be Russian, right?"

Davis nodded. "And independent military experts chosen by the U.N., in conjunction with some of our off-word contacts."

"Don't you mean 'allies'?"

"Things have been...tense, what with the power struggles among the remaining Goa'uld," Davis said apologetically. "The Nox are still pursuing an isolationist policy, and the Asgard have not been responding to our overtures, so..."

"Right," Jack said. He gave Davis a look which said, _ah, what the hell_ , and then asked, "Do I get an advisor on matters of my lunch and bathroom breaks, too?"

Davis stared at his shoes, which were extraordinarily shiny.

"Major...?"

"Major Samuels is slated for the job," Davis said. "But I think General Hammond is going to explain the situation to him. He should be willing to accept another assignment. In which case, Sergeant Harriman might be induced to..."

"Small mercies," Jack said. "My Walter and my staff, they comfort...well, no I don't suppose they will. Okay, so when does this all happen? It's got to take a while to assemble that many experts who hate me."

"Uh, yes, Sir," Davis said. "We couldn't schedule your first general staff meeting until...um...2100 hours this evening."

" _This evening?_ "

"Yes, Sir," Davis said.

"That's, uh, exceptionally efficient," Jack said.

"People were happy to answer the call," Davis said. He'd been backing his way to the door all through the conversation, and was now practically there. "Um...will there be anything else, Sir?"

Jack sighed. "Just a big bottle of aspirin, Major."

* * *

Jack stood outside his own briefing room at 2057, marveling at how difficult it was to knowingly enter hostile territory without backup -- no, without his team. Not for the first time, he thought that maybe he'd chosen the wrong fight, the wrong strategy. He wondered if Custer had had the same feeling just before Little Big Horn, and then he wondered if Custer had talked to _his_ best friends right before the battle, or if they'd gone off, as his had, to do their own things in their own little worlds. If Custer's friends had ignored his calls, ignored their shared history. Ignored the fact that no matter how bone-headed he'd been, he'd damn it all _meant_ well.

And then Davis was at his side, saying, "Sir? It's time."

Jack opened the door to a sea of faces; a mix of colors and nationalities and species, each seated behind a card proclaiming his or her name, rank, staff position, and place -- or, in some cases, planet -- of origin. But Jack barely noticed any of that, because right there, seated in the middle of the how-did-they- fit-a-hunk-of-mahogany-that-long-in-here-anyway table, were his new senior technical, diplomatic and military advisors. 

One was smirking, one was cool and alert, one impassive. 

Custer was probably less prepared for the Sioux than Jack was for this show of duplicity, planning, and counter-offensive-with-the-element-of-surprise. Damn, but his kids were _good_. Vindictive, but good. And persuasive, apparently, though after facing down the Goa'uld and the Replicators, convincing a Pentagon liaison to follow their lead probably hadn't been much of a challenge.

"This is, uh, unexpected," Jack said, testing the waters for exploding sharks.

Daniel's smile said, _You really are an ass, Jack_ , but it also said a lot of other things, some of which were echoed in Carter's eyes, and the particular tilt of Teal'c's eyebrow. 

"I believe this is scheduled meeting. I believe we have great deal of work to do," one of the new science staff said in hesitant, heavily-accented English. "Surely you mean to say this is expected?"

"Indeed," Teal'c said. "I believe our being here could actually be considered inevitable."

And Jack realized he was, of course, right. 

He mentally ran through all the things he wanted to say, all the things he needed to say, all the points and arguments and opinions he'd have to get across. Overlaying all of that was "Yes!" and "Sweet!", but by then there was a growing murmur from the assembled staff, and even Teal'c was looking at him expectantly. 

"General?" Davis whispered from his side. "You really have to say _something._ "

So General Jack O'Neill stood before them all -- the people he knew and the people he didn't, the people he'd saved and the people who'd saved him, the people who didn't like him and, most especially, the people he loved -- and he said hello.

 

**7\. In Which Daniel Gets the Last Word**  
 _And it's a hieroglyph._

_"There will come a time when you believe everything is finished, and that will be the beginning." -- Louis L'Amour_

In the end it was just the four of them -- wasn't it always? -- and about as comfortable as it had ever been, and as awkward as it often was. They sat around the commissary table, staring at the remnants of the cake with _Goodbye and Good Luck SG-1_ spelled out in swirls of olive-drab frosting. No one said anything. Sam played with a length of bunting that had fallen during one of the many, many tributes to SG-1 -- possibly SG-11's, which had been staged to the tune of "Ain't That Peculiar" -- and Daniel got another cup of coffee. Teal'c sat quietly, as if trying to achieve Kelnorim one last time. Finally, Jack said, "Well, if nobody's going to eat this..." and snagged the last piece of cake.

"This situation--" Teal'c began.

"Sucks," Sam finished for him. 

"Change is a part of life," Daniel said, looking at his fork, and Jack's cake, and clearly assessing strategies and options, because sometimes he did that, now. "We should welcome it. Celebrate it. You have to be open to possibilities. Change is life."

Jack gave him The Look. 

"Okay," Daniel conceded with a sigh. "It also kind of sucks. Though Sam's going to do great things at Area 51, and Teal'c's going to do great things on Dakara, and Jack's going to do...well, he's certainly going to be busy in Washington. And I'm finally going to see Atlantis. So that's all good." He smiled a little. "I knew this day was going to come, you know?" he said, picking up his cup again. "But I still didn't expect it."

"I know just what you mean," Sam said, running a finger through the blob of greenish-brown frosting left on the platter.

"As do I," Teal'c said. "But as you say, Daniel Jackson, this day was destined to occur."

"There's so much I never got to...so much I didn't finish," Daniel said, putting his cup down again.

Jack finally looked up, alarmed. "You're not going to start explaining about that thing that looked like that other thing that had something to do with the ancient Etruscans again, are you? Because I have to leave in a few hours."

Daniel returned The Look, with interest. "No, Jack."

"No?"

"No."

"You're sure? I don't want to--"

"On Chulak," Teal'c interrupted, "at times of change or separation between those who have been close, the Jaffa engage in the ancient practice of Rak' Muh-ness."

Daniel lit up, and even laid down his fork. "Okay. 'Rak', that would be ritual, and 'Muh-ness' is the--"

"No!" Jack interjected. "No alien rites, Daniel. Rites would be...wrong. For crying out loud, Teal'c, after all this time you should know better than to--"

"What is it?" Sam broke in, out of force of habit. "This Rak-whatever?"

"Rak' Muh-ness," Teal'c told her. "I do not know what the exact translation would be on this world. On Chulak, it means that we continue our usual pursuits as though nothing of importance is occurring."

"Well, some alien rites are okay," Jack said. "Some rites are...all right."

"There are rituals which serve a similar purpose on your world," Teal'c went on, unperturbed. "Rites that offer comfort at times of stress. For instance, I have found great solace in accompanying others to witness ritual warfare."

"Ritual warfare?" Sam repeated, scooping up the very last of the frosting. "Football?"

"Wrestling," Teal'c said. "By female warriors. In--"

"Teal'c!" Jack hissed. "Ix-nay on the ello-Jay!"

"Uh-huh," Sam said, wiping her hands, and managing to ball up her napkin in a way that was more than a little threatening. "You guys want to tell me something?"

"Jack thinks Pig Latin is a language," Daniel said. "And that only guys understand it."

"Nice diversion, Daniel," Sam said, smacking him on the arm. "But I have a feeling you had something to do with that bit of Teal'c's cultural education, too."

"That's what you get for dissing Pig Latin," Jack muttered. More loudly, he said, "Anything else you want to say, Daniel?"

Daniel just made a face, so Teal'c stepped in. "I have something to say," he said, looking around the table. "I find I have many emotions as I come to the end of my time at the SGC. I believe I became more of a Jaffa here, with you, than I would have among my own people. I have become more than I knew I could be. I have learned much. I have been given much -- more, I believe, than I can repay." He looked at Jack, Daniel and Sam in turn, and bowed his head. "I thank you for all you have done for my people, and for me. The bonds of friendship we forged here have shaped me. I believe they will last beyond this lifetime. I will not forget them, or you."

"So much for Rak' Muh-ness, huh?" Jack said.

"That was...that was beautiful, Teal'c," Sam said. "I feel the same way. I learned so much from all of you -- more, I think, than I did gating around the galaxy. I saw so much because of...because of Teal'c's loyalty and determination, and Daniel's integrity and compassion, and," here she turned to Jack, "because of your strength and your leadership, Sir." She looked back at her teammates, one by one. "And through that, I learned to see myself. To see what I could be, and what I wanted to be, and...it's been a privilege and an honor. And you'd better all keep in touch," she finished, with something close to a sniff, because sometimes she let herself do that, now, "or I'll come after you with a zat. And don't think I won't."

"I have no doubt of that," Jack said.

"O'Neill...?" Teal'c said.

"Oh, for..." Jack ran a hand through his hair, and took a breath. "Okay. Okay. Maybe I...No. No maybe." He, too, looked around the table, meeting each pair of eyes. "I was half a man. And half a soldier. And then there was that first trip to Abydos," and here he gave Daniel a small smile and a nod, "and I saw that I could still be...the soldier, and the man, and maybe build a future somewhere between the two. But on my own, the future would never have been...You three, you gave me a reason. A reason to look to the future, a reason to try, a reason to fight. You gave me back my faith in myself. You gave me hope." He looked down at his hands, and up again. "And you gave me gray hair. But...for everything that happened, even the crappy things, and the fights we lost, I gained something, and I...there's no way of thanking you three enough. But thank you, anyway."

"You are welcome, O'Neill," Teal'c said, and he smiled, because sometimes he did that, now.

There was a moment of comfortable silence, and then a longer moment of pointed silence, and then finally Jack said, "Daniel? It's your turn."

Daniel picked up his fork, put it down, twirled it a few times, cleared his throat, and finally looked around the table. "I don't have anything to say."

"You don't -- nothing?" Jack asked.

"Uh, no."

"No?" Sam echoed.

"I didn't know we were going to...uh..."

"You have _nothing_ to say?" Jack demanded. "After eight years, and a few thousand speeches about everything from the origin of the Ancient word for 'mountain' to the evolution of the aardvark, you have _nothing_ to say?"

Daniel gave an apologetic shrug. "Sorry."

Jack stood up. "Okay. Well then -- I guess we're done here. 'Bye."

"I brought gifts," Daniel said hurriedly. Sam grinned at Teal'c. 

Jack sat down. "Oh, well," he said. "I could stay a few more minutes."

Daniel pulled up the military-issue tablecloth, fished a large gift bag from under the table, and drew out three flat packages wrapped in tissue paper. He slid one across the table to Jack, handed one to Sam, and stood and bowed as he presented the last to Teal'c.

Sam got hers unwrapped first. "Oh! This is great, Daniel! I remember that night..."

"Indeed," Teal'c said, gazing at the framed photo in his hands. "We were at the Kuki Japanese restaurant, after retrieving Daniel Jackson from the world of the Oannes, Nem. I had never before tasted sushi."

"You got the waitress to take a picture," Sam said. "Wow, we look so young! This is...this is wonderful. And I love this frame, Daniel. Where did you get it?"

"I had them made," Daniel said. "In the metallurgy lab. Siler etched the inscriptions for me."

"These are hieroglyphs along the top," Sam said, running her finger along the smooth metal.

"But the writing down the right side -- is that Ancient?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," Daniel said. "And the left side--"

"Appears to be the runes of the Asgard," Teal'c said.

Jack squinted at the frame in his hands, and then turned it over. "It's beautiful, Daniel. But...no translation?"

"It says, _SG-1,_ " Daniel said, gauging their reactions with an eyebrow shimmy only slightly less pronounced than it would have been in the old days. " _We explored the universe and ate pie._ " He took a sip from his cup.

No one said anything for a minute, and then Sam said, "Indeed", and Daniel's coffee went up his nose.

It took a few minutes of back-pounding and helpful suggestions before Daniel was breathing normally again, and then Teal'c said, "We shall continue exploring. Always."

"And eating dessert," Sam said. "Even if we don't always do it together."

Daniel twiddled his fork, and didn't look at anyone. "You don't have to see people to...It's like the North Star. It's always there to guide you, even when you can't see it. And it's...well, everybody has their own North Star, you know? Something that guides them -- a belief, a goal, a myth, even. You all -- what we did, what we tried to do -- were mine. _Are > mine."_

There was a moment of total silence, and then, "There's a hieroglyph for _pie?_ " Jack asked.

Daniel swiveled to face him. "You have to be open to possibility," he said easily, his eyes crinkling a bit. "Open to the unexpected. To change. To growth. To adaptation."

"And _that_ means...?"

Daniel leaned forward, fork in hand, and stole the last bit of cake from Jack's plate.

"Daniel!" Jack yelled, because he still did that, even now.

"So, _is_ there a hieroglyph for pie?" Sam asked, ever in search of answers.

Daniel licked the frosting off his fork and smiled. "There is now."

END


End file.
